


Starkhaven Affairs

by scarletcougar



Series: Trust and Guardianship [3]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Child Abuse, Drama, Gen, Loss, Rape, Revelations, Self-Discovery, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletcougar/pseuds/scarletcougar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The secrets behind the Fall of the Chantry and what transpires in Starkhaven after Sebastian leaves the group threatening an Exalted March on Kirkwall for Anders head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clandestine Encounter

**_~~ Kirkwall’s Chantry 5 months before The Fall_ **

Muscles stiffened between his shoulder blades as he watched the blond apostate… possessed apostate practically slithering out like a thief in the night from the Chantry. Sebastian hurried over the Grand-Cleric Elthina to make sure she was alright.

“What was **he** doing here?” Protective, judgemental, and utterly on the edge. Sebastian insisted on knowing Anders' reasons for invading and contaminating this holy place.

Grey eyes regarded Sebastian’s hot temper patiently. “Sebastian, the Maker has compassion for all. If he can be compassionate and willing to listen to such a person as Anders, should you not at least try to emulate?”

Sebastian looked away as his temper cooled into mild shame.

“ _‘The one who repents, who has faith, Unshaken by the darkness of the world, he shall know true peace.’_ Do you deny Anders the opportunity to repent and find peace?” She quoted Transfigurations 10 as a first lesson and reminder. She watched Sebastian frown, struggling with the words being used for Anders. He knew everyone deserved the opportunity to repent but at the same time, Anders was a possessed apostate, doomed to wreak havoc on the world and innocent lives as an abomination. Elthina took Sebastian’s hand in hers, gentle and comforting. She then recited Trials 1:14, “ _‘Though all before me is shadow, Yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.’_ Sebastian. Remember this. The saddest and loneliest of souls need to know that you can be the eyes and the ears of the Maker. To see them when they are lost. To hear their cries for help. To listen to their confessions. Then to be the heart and hands of the Maker. To show compassion when no one else will and to guide when they feel utterly lost. I try to be this for you, for the people here in Kirkwall from the mightiest to the lowest.”

Sebastian returned to his dorm room, heart heavy with his troubled thoughts. It was one thing to be angry and avenge the deaths of his family. But what had Anders done that deserved his ire? Why should he deny Anders solace when the mage came to the house of the Maker seeking it? He was caught between his mistrust of possessed mages and his trust of Elthina.

He watched quietly from the balcony, without interfering, when he noticed the apostate creek nervously into the Chantry several nights later. Anders stood at the foot of the statue gazing up for a long while. Then Anders kneeled down and lit one of the candles and buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. Elthina came to him and knelt, putting her arms around him and speaking soft words of comfort that Sebastian could not hear. He thought suddenly that perhaps apostate was an inappropriate word to use for mages outside the Circles. The words meant one who had turned their back on the Maker, but what if those mages had not and were only turning their back on the rules that bound them into a Circle?

Anders really seemed lonely. Desperate. He was no longer in a relationship with Hawke. It had ended a bit messily. Anders looked up in surprise, meeting Elthina’s eyes and shook his head fervently. Elthina nodded encouragingly and reassuringly. Then she pressed something into Anders' hands. A small piece of paper, probably one of the many slips of paper with verses of the Chant she often handed out to people who needed something tangible to remember and be guided by.

Anders stood and spoke, just loud enough that Sebastian heard, “But all those who are innocent?”

“The Maker will see them to safety or by his side. Anders. You serve the innocent by healing every day. You know how hard it can be and the decisions you sometimes need to make in that healing. Do what you must. All will be alright. It will be alright.” Elthina reassured him as she had often reassured Sebastian.

The blond wiped tears from his cheeks as he looked down at the paper again and nodded, trying to trust Elthina’s words. Sebastian hoped Anders would trust her. If anyone could save Anders, surely it could be Elthina. She saved such an unruly princeling after all. Quietly, Sebastian wished Anders well as he returned to bed, allowing the clandestine encounter to remain thus, clandestine.


	2. Cutting Apron Strings

**_~~ Kirkwall one month before The Fall_ **

Grand-Cleric Elthina returned to the Chantry from yet another meeting in the Gallows to listen to First Enchanter Orsino and Knight-Commander Meredith screaming at each other across a discussion table with Hawke sitting and feeling like a mouse caught in the crossfire of two angry cats. She stood before the statue of Andraste and prayed aloud.

> _Blessed are they who stand before_ _the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.  
>  Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just._

She sighed heavily. Then she summoned Sebastian to meet with her to discuss his family affairs. She tried not to think of this as facing a second blight in a single day. She opened the small chest in her office as Sebastian entered. “Please, close the door. This is for no one’s ears but your own.”

Puzzled and concerned he did as asked. “Have you reconsidered then? Are you finally going to accept Leiliana’s advice and leave the city?”

“Please sit, Sebastian.” She waited for him to do so. “No. I am not leaving. Do not ask me again. I must… I. Must. Remain. The people here need me. If I leave, the ensuing war that will follow in the abandonment will be terrible. I need to maintain peace as long as I can and ensure certain affairs are handled.”

Sebastian wasn’t entirely sure what she meant but had a sinking feeling it had something to do with her counter request for him to leave for Starkhaven.

“I know you will not leave if I am staying,” as if she read his mind. “At some point, you will have to take your place in Starkhaven. Those people also need you, perhaps as badly as the people here need me. Your absence is felt.” She handed over the first of a collection of papers she had removed from a trunk.

“Absolved…” He breathed the word that stood out on the page to him.

“Yes, Sebastian. You are formally and officially absolved of your vows. It is necessary for you to be so. You are the last living heir of Starkhaven’s royal line. You are Prince Vael now. It is time you learned to take that place.” She handed him another stack of papers.

He looked them over. Deeds to a house, an estate really, in Hightown, in the Vael name. He blinked like he did not understand. Then he read them again. They were in the name of his grandfather. “I… own a home here in Kirkwall?”

“Your family does, yes. I believe it is not far from your friend’s dilapidated manor. Maybe you can convince him to make reparations?” They both laughed knowing Fenris would not.

Sebastian felt like a boy, eager to explore something hidden in secret by his family.

“I would like you to move your belongings into it. Since you are now absolved of your vows, it is not proper for you to live here in the Chantry.”

Sebastian lifted his head with a small gasp, then he lowered it. “I understand,” sorrow heavy in his brogue accent.

“This is for the best, Sebastian. This is important… for you. You need a middle ground. It won’t be for long, but use it. The home will always be here for you when you visit.” A knock at her door alerted her to the next meeting. “Sebastian, be a good man. Be a good prince.”

He stood knowing he was dismissed. He wanted to say something, but could not find away around the lump in his throat. So when Elthina escorted him to the door, he hugged her.

“Oh son of my heart. I will always love you. You were never lost, no matter the things your father had once said. Remember that. Be gentle, compassionate. Remember what I taught you. And visit often.”

He nodded and wiped at his eyes before leaving. Mostly composed, he passed a group of brothers and sisters awaiting their meeting with Elthina. He packed his belongings with shaking hands and an aching heart. It was a push from the nest, a cutting of apron strings. He was afraid. What if his temper got the better of him? What if he forgot Elthina’s guiding lessons? Starkhaven was so far away from Kirkwall. He told himself that he wasn’t going to Starkhaven just yet. He was just going to a house practically around the corner.

When he finally stood at the door, and not alone for he asked Hawke and Varric and Fenris to join him, his stomach knotted with nervousness.

“Do not lecture me about my home, Sebastian. Yours has been abandoned for two generations. It is in little better shape,” Fenris felt mildly satisfied with his friendly jab.

“I hope we get to poke into all the hidden spaces and chests!” declared Hawke cheerfully enough for everyone to grin. He so easily turned this into an adventure, alleviating Sebastian of much of the twisting in his gut.

The estate, as it turned out, was not in as bad condition as Fenris’ after all. He teased Fenris in turn about that. And yes, he allowed Hawke to poke into literally everywhere.

A few days later, Sebastian returned to the Chantry to listen to Elthina’s sermon. She welcomed him to stay and let her know how he was settling into his new home. As he updated her, he watched the parting of those same brothers and sisters of the Chantry. “Where are they going? Have they been reassigned?”

“You are always so observant, Sebastian. Yes, they are going out on missionary duty to spread the Chant and do charitable works.”

He remembered doing that. It was hard and tried his patience often. But at the same time it was deeply rewarding.


	3. Mission: Betrayal

**_~~ Kirkwall one week before The Fall_ **

Cullen sat in front of Grand-Cleric Elthina. His face pale with the news he received. “I am not sure I want to risk this.”

“I am not asking you want you want, Cullen. If you can swear that no harm befalls anyone in the Gallows unwarranted, then you can forget I ever spoke.”

He fisted his hands. “You are asking me to betray Meredith. It has consequences.”

“I am asking you to do your duty and prove you are committed to your vows… despite Meredith. Sometimes we must do what we know to be right even if it breaks a few rules.” She called in a young woman, one of the sisters, with a long dark braid down her back. “If you cannot escort her, then find someone who can. Cullen. Please. My hands are tied so I act through someone I trust.”

He nodded, “My hands are tied too. If I leave… I… I cannot leave. Not now. Not while things are this heated. There are fewer of us that can stand and protect.” His jaw tightened a moment. “She executed Thrask,” Cullen whispers.

Elthina inhaled sharply and whispered a prayer.

He thought a moment. “Keran. I will send Keran. With as many as he can take. The children if we can manage it. This mission is one of betrayal. They will be hunted, called apostates and traitors.”

“Not when they reach Starkhaven. Let us try to save as many as we can and stand strong for those we cannot save.”

Together the recited Benedictions 4:10-11.

> _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.  
>  Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. _
> 
> _Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.  
>  In their blood the _ _Maker's will is written._

Cullen left with some holy water he had said he was retrieving from the Chantry.

To the young woman, Elthina handed three small locked chests. The woman took two sisters. The three shouldered travel packs and headed out to the Vimmark Mountains to wait no more than three days for the Templars and their charges to meet up with them. They each bore one chest in their travel pack. The older of the three parted ways immediately on her mission. She headed for a boat that would take her to Orlais where her duty was to meet with the Divine directly if she could. The second was to wait for a Warden to meet her and escort her to Fereldan as a conscript for her apothecary knowledge. She would then speak with King Alistair. The dark-haired woman waited for Keran.

Cullen met Keran as usual for training. They walked a patrol together, even down to Darktown where they purposely avoided Anders’ clinic.

“Ser, I am honored for all you have taught me, and for accepting me despite the possible risks.”

Cullen flipped up his visor to better see the young knight before him.

“But Ser…  I… I don’t think I can be a Templar with Meredith in charge.” He dropped his eyes in shame for his words, but the things he had witnessed turned his stomach.

“I know. I will miss having you with me. You are one of my finest recruits.” Cullen spoke honestly. Keran was one of the finest. He was glad he had not dismissed Keran. “If I had a mission for you that took you out of Meredith’s reach, would you consider it?”

“She would never allow me out of her sight. She still thinks I am an abomination.” Keran sighed. “I have been a recruit for three years with no advancement. I should just resign. I… was going to ask for that.”

“Keran, don’t,” Cullen insisted. “I am the one who has not offered you promotion.” At Keran’s surprise he continued. “It was to protect you. If I keep you as a recruit, it keeps you under my watchful eye and no one else’s. I have trained you with the lyrium as if you had taken your vows, but on half measures. I wanted you to know how to use the Templar talents… just in case.”

They stopped in front of a sewage hatch.

“You have not answered my question, Keran.”

The young man thought hard. “It depends on what you ask of me. I’m sorry. I cannot just say yes. I have my sister to consider and… my survival.”

“I hope this mission will guarantee your survival… but … I will be asking you to betray the order and Meredith.”

The news stunned the young man for many minutes. Keran could not believe Cullen, Knight-Captain Cullen, second only to Meredith, was suggesting betrayal.

“Keran, this must be kept utterly secret what I tell you or I promise, Meredith will execute everyone you know and value in her hysterical paranoia.” Cullen waited for Keran to accept his fate. By having already said this much promised that if Keran did not help now, Meredith would have him… and his sister.

Keran dropped his eyes to the filthy rusty hatch. “What must I do?”

“This hatch leads into the tunnels under the Gallows and out to the Vimmark Mountains. This here is a map. The only one of its kind of the routes, formerly used for the Mage Underground movement.” Cullen handed Keran the map. “You and I will part ways and you will NOT show back up at the Gallows. You will be declared as a defector. You run and get your sister first, then come here and follow the map. Sneak into the Gallows and meet with Knight-Captain Jolyron and Enchanter Archivan. There will meet you here.” Cullen pointed on the map. “Take the children and run. I do not care who you kill to get them out, just do it. Meredith means to kill them all.” Keran gasped. “You will meet Sister Rosie in the Vimmark Mountains and travel on foot north to Starkhaven. She carries vital information. Your mission will be one of betrayal in Meredith’s eyes. But this mission comes direct from Grand-Cleric Elthina. I will take your vows here and now if you will swear them.”

It was all overwhelmingly ghastly and heroic and terrifying. Also, gravely important if he was being trusted with it. “Why are you not going?”

“Because I am all that stands now between Meredith and her madness. I hope to get her to see reason.”

Keran’s expression darkened. “You won’t. I have seen what the knights do to mages in the lower levels. She watches… with pleasure. Sick. Pleasure. I want no part of that.”

“Then act as a good second to Jolyron. Be a better example of what the order should be. You are called the Seed Group for Starkhaven. You are Elthina’s Seeds. And mine… Please. Do what I should have done years ago.”

“Ser?”

“I watched men like Alrik cripple mages. Torture them. Cut the word apostate into those that ran and lock them in isolation for months at a time, poisoned with magebane. Mages… like Anders. Flayed, raped and worse. I did nothing then. I was just a recruit like you. Someone asked me to do a mission much like this. I was… a coward and refused. But I kept my tongue. “A lesser skilled recruit was asked to do it. My younger brother. He was executed in Denerim along with all the children he was with. Three adult mages escaped. They were recaptured. One executed when he gave in to demons in his terror. One was made tranquil. And Anders was thrown into isolation for a one year sentence. Three months into that I requested a transfer. Please, Keran. Please.”

“I… never knew… Ser… yes. I will swear my vows to you and to the ideal of the order not the people ruling it.” Keran drew his sword and knelt on one knee in the dank filth of Draktown. He knew the vows by heart having memorized them in the hopes of being able to swear them, until recently. Now he understood. There was corruption and it went deep in the order. He was being asked to step outside that corruption and be better, be the Knight Templar he once dreamed of being. The vows slid firmly from his lips.

Cullen responded on cue. “Keran. Good luck. Stay safe. Keep them safe. Go direct to Starkhaven.” Cullen then hugged the young man like a brother, like the brother who had taken up his mission and died for it without his to help. “Live with honor, Keran. Trust your mages and be trusted by them. You are their Guardian.” He handed Keran the insignia of a sworn knight Templar as proof of the taken vows. “I hope to see you again one day.” His tone was sad for he honestly didn’t think it would happen not without some miracle of the Maker or grace of Andraste.

They parted ways in Lowtown as if they ended their normal patrol.


	4. The Fall: Vacant Homefires

# The Fall: Vacant Homefires

**_~~ Starkhaven. Three weeks after The Fall._ **

News travels much faster than the swiftest ships. Circles rebelled all over Thedas in the weeks that followed The Fall. The Fall is what people called it. The Fall of the Chantry of Kirkwall. Templars cracked down in some places. Mages rebelled in others. The Chantry became stricter. Other places seized the opportunity to break free of the Chantry entirely. Thedas was swiftly falling into chaos in many areas. This time, Fereldan seemed to handle the news and the impending repercussions far better than the other nations. King Alistair worked with the Circle at Lake Calanhad to forge a new way to deal with mages. It birthed with some trouble, but it was a start.

The Anderfels ceded from Fereldan with Alistair’s blessing, and his secret relief. Their religious extremism was honestly more than Alistair wanted to face on a regular basis.

Fereldan was far from Starkhaven in the Free Marches. Free Marches, that seemed less and less free as the weeks passed. The Divine agreed to some strict edicts and not to others. This created division in the ranks of the Templars and the Chantry itself. Nations organized themselves. However, the Free Marches with no central governing head felt the worst of this chaos. Provinces, cities and districts were ruled by princes (or princesses) or viscounts. It was every city for themselves. As for the people in the outlying districts not closely tied to any city… It became every man for himself. The Free Marches started to fall into anarchy with patches ruled by renegades and upstarts. Tevinter slavers benefitted greatly from it all.

Sebastian was almost at Starkhaven’s river port about the same time Orlais dispatched Seekers to sort the mess out before it turned to a world war.

On the ship, Sebastian drowned his grief and fury in alcohol and the blood of anyone who crossed him, at least till a smarter sailor waited till he was drunk enough to clobber into unconsciousness. The ship, swift as it was, felt glad to be rid of the drunken prince. Sebastian staggered along the dock of Starkhaven’s River Port, mumbling about Elthina and the lost innocent lives and randomly yelling and cursing Anders' existence as he howled his pledges for vengeance.

A growing mob figured out who he was and gathered around him moments before they beat him near senseless. In the chaos of the mob attack someone pulled him into an alley and shoved him through the side door of some inn. His saviour was not gentle and spoke with a thick brogue accent that Sebastian had lost the recognition of over the decade he was under Elthina’s wing. Slurred jibberish. Maybe it was just the pounding in his head and the ringing in his ears.

It took almost three whole days to clean the prince up and sober him. At first he thought his saviour might actually have been a kidnapper, until his senses started to actually clear. He realized he had been mobbed by… his own people. “What… happened?” he braved asking his captor/saviour as he looked out the fifth floor window of the tallest Inn for this port. The port looked as dingy and rough as Kirkwalls, more dangerous than the last time Sebastian was here to wipe out the usurpers to his throne. “Where’s the army? The royal guard? The city militia?”

The grizzled man that stole him off the street replied, “Yer looking at it, Prince Vael. An’ I’m supposed to be retired.”

Sebastian turned from the window to regard thoroughly look at this man for he could not believe what he had just heard. His saviour/captor stood in the doorway, guarding it from anyone who might try to enter, but also preventing Sebastian from leaving. He wore non-descript, mismatch, mercenary armor and two long swords, one at each hip. His stubble covered his jaw and most of his head, save for a spreading bald patch and several scars that looked like a blade caught him twice in the face over the top of his hairline. Sebastian barely remembered him from his childhood.

“As t’what happened, Sire… First Tevinter invaded. They wiped most of the standin’ army out. Then Templars came to rule in place. Then The Fall happened and we ended in civil war between supporters of the mages and supporters of the Templars and supporters of differin’ factions that rose. That wiped the militia. Templars and an uprising in the local Chanrty tried to storm the palace...  last week. That wiped most of the standing royal guard. The palace is still Vael property, but it will not withstand another invasion. Now, the principality is subject to bands of Templars, fanatical Chantry members, raiders on the river, bandits in the fields and forests, slavers. So… what did ye miss? Ye missed sittin’ yer fecking place on the throne. No wonder the people tried to tear you limb from limb. They’d rather ye were dead than ye muster them to march on Kirkwall. Ya, they heard about that. Ye might want to know the death toll before ye think of huntin’ fer one mage ye got pissed off with.”

Sebastian sank felt a bit bloodless with the dressing down. “What’s the blood toll?” He asked in almost a whisper, not really wanting to know and yet…

“Eleven in The Fall.”

Sebastian seemed surprised at how few perished. He was so certain it was more than that.

“Here in Starkhaven… 4,856 while ye neglected yer people.”

Sebastian almost missed the chair he tried to sit on.

“So… FECK Kirkwall. Ye’re either our Prince or ye’re not. Decide now so I can know what to tell the Seneschal and if I should get horses for us. If not… ye’re free to go outside. I’ll go lookin’ fer yer toddler of a second cousin to train in yer place.” With that he turned and left Sebastian to swallow his own bitter pill or choke on it.

He stood back up shakily and walked over to the rack that held his armor and bow and empty quiver. Elthina had warned him over the last couple years, tried to encourage him to head back to Starkhaven. But he was stubborn. He had sworn to protect her. He had taken vows as a brother of the Chantry. Then she released him. Then she moved him out to his family house in Kirkwall. And he thought Anders had several lives to repent for… He covered his eyes with a hand. Hot shameful tears slipped past his fingers. Elthina had once told him, _‘Clean your own house before you knock upon your neighbor’s door to insist he clean his.’_ Starkhaven was his house, not Kirkwall. Not the Chantry. Not any other part of Thedas.

After washing his face in the wash basin by the bed, he stepped into the hall to see the old warrior still standing guard. “I am ready to go to the palace.”

“About bloody fecking time. My legs are tired of standin’ here.”

Within the hour, they were on horses and riding through the devastation that used to be the proud shining city of Starkhaven. Desperate eyes watched him warily and darted back into hiding inside homes or crowded alleys. They tended to their own horses at the palace stables since there was no stable hand. The halls echoed emptily as they walked to the Seneschal’s office. A bare handful of servants cast uncomfortable glances Sebastian’s way. In the office, the Seneschal tore strips from Sebastian more eloquently and far more venomously than the guard did. Sebastian accepted it. This mess was his fault.

After a long pause and silence while the prince stared at his hands laying in his lap, he confessed, “I don’t know what to do.” He didn’t. The years he would have spent learning about politics, rulership and stewardship, he had spent rebelling against his father then had spent in the Chantry. He was not remotely prepared for this, part of why perhaps he had avoided it.

The Seneschal sighed with more patience that Sebastian thought he deserved. “One step at a time, sire. One step at a time. “Padrig, the craggy guard who brought you here, will protect you and help you train new palace guards. Militia and an army can grow out of that in time. My name is Seneschal Corwin. I was originally appointed by your father. When the royal line was obliterated… twice… and no one was here to handle the affairs, I took the initiative to try to protect the people while trying to convince Grand-Cleric Elthina to convince you to take your place here. We will both help you and teach you what we can. Otherwise, clean up your personal affairs. I’ll show you to the royal suites. We have no servants that will be there to do anything for you. And don’t look to me for that. You can either bathe and dress yourself by now and clean your own room like a normal adult or you can’t. I have no time or patience left for one who can’t unless you are a toddler. And yes, I am still searching for your second cousin. I want him here anyways as a back-up until you have an actual heir.”

Sebastian suddenly understood how Fenris felt when he used to complain about being overwhelmed. These feelings were overwhelming.

He stood in the middle of the main lounge of the main suite in the royal wing. Dust layered the white sheets that covered the furniture. A couple years’ worth of dust. It was his parents’ suite. It felt wrong standing in it. More wrong seeing it covered in the shrouds like this. He removed armor and weapons and stored them on his father’s racks. A sneeze cast a rise of dust and several more sneezes. This room held the feel of ghosts, judgemental ghosts. He knew it was only in his mind, guilt did that, as Elthina had once taught him. He felt ungrounded, floundering without the anchors he had become comfortable with in the Chantry. Chantry. There was a small one in the palace. He left behind the suite and sought the sanctuary of the little Chantry. It was little better off than his royal suite. Dusty, dirty, benches toppled, the life-sized statue of Andraste looking grey instead of the soft cream marble.

He knelt in the near rubble of the almost forgotten sanctuary and prayed. He had so much to beg forgiveness for. He didn’t feel like a prince at all, but more like a criminal far crueler than Anders. Anders… a healer… a free healer for the poorest of the poor. What had the possessed apostate done but circumvent the Chantry law in order to help people who had no means. Anders even lived in Darktown and suffered the life of those who also lived there. Sebastian hung his head. And in the end, no one listened to the mage about and his fury had him lost to the spirit in him till it made him destroy the one other hope of the people, and thus both hopes for the people. No one listened to the mage. His damned propaganda became more and more drastic and consuming. In the end… only eleven people suffered and died because of Anders. Sebastian’s neglect killed thousands. It was hard to swallow. It was hard to forgive. Penance perhaps was the best Sebastian could hope for. He wondered how much penance would be enough of a salve to heal his soul. _“One step at a time. Clean up your own house…”_ These were Seneschal Corwin’s words. He lifted his head and found his penance.

He pulled off his shirt and cleaned the statue with it. Then sought buckets and rags and soap and whatever cleaning tools he could. When he first started out as a brother, he had to do penance often for a number of rebellious transgressions. And penance then was cleaning the Chantry top to bottom. No one was around to give him the task, so he gave it to himself. Bit by bit, inch by inch, he scrubbed and cleaned on his hands and knees. He righted or removed benches as need be. He polished brass and marble and oiled the wood. He even found a forgotten Book of the Chant of Light. There was no sermon stand, se he placed the book at Andraste’s feet and lit some fresh candles there. When he turned to leave, he found a few of the (must be) servants of the palace watching him from the opened doors. A couple were even finishing up the last of the cleaning in the back of the little Chantry.

He must have looked about to drop, because someone guided him back to the suite where he found at least the bed clean and ready for use. Maybe that was the solution. There was no way he was going to be able to rule people. Not yet. He hardly knew how. But maybe… maybe he could lead by example. Start with himself and his home. And then maybe it will inspire those outside it to do the same, find their inner pride and confidence once more as they make Starkhaven shine. In his purging of the room that served as his office, he discovered letters that had been sent to him over the past years. One was from… Elthina. He sat at the desk and read it carefully.

~~~

_Sebastian,_

_I thought to leave you this letter in the hopes that you will find it when you visited Starkhaven, even if you choose not to rule there. Remember to be patient. Listen more than you speak. And if you choose to take your seat, act with compassion. Mind you temper. You are one of many seeds I have planted with my prayers to the maker for success. Kirkwall’s soil is too poisoned for most to grow. But now you are free, or so I hope. If you stay in Starkhaven, please watch for other seeds that I will be casting into the winds. I hope they find their way to you and all my seeds find fertile ground to flourish in._

_Here is some advice if you are staying as Prince._

_There are two ways to rule a people: By force or with love. Remember this. Both have their benefits. Ruling by force can reign in madness swiftly, grant you power almost instantly when you need to hold it in the face of danger. Ruling with love takes time, a slow built of trust, like any relationship. But to rule by force engenders fear and fear leads to betrayal. Love, engenders devotion and respect, loyalty even. Your people will die willingly for you because they know you will willingly die for them._

_“Blessed are they who stand before_  
The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.  
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.”

 _“All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands,_  
From the lowest slaves  
To the highest kings.”

 _“Though all before me is shadow,_  
Yet shall the Maker be my guide.  
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.  
For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light  
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

_“In the absence of light, shadows thrive.”_

_Sebastian, be the light._

_All my love, Elthina_

~~~

He swallowed his pride and admitted his incompetence and asked for help. His hardest lesson was coming to understand that The Fall of Kirkwall was not the only Fall. Starkhaven fell several years ago. Actually, it fell when his father and family had been executed. Everything was in a downward spiral from there. Sebastian had to fight that spin now and bring it to a halt, change its course, rebuilt. He met with the guard, Padrig, and Seneschal Corwin every day to learn the state of things and work out priorities. Between lessons and meetings, he took on the role of servant and worked alongside the servants of the palace.

Word spread of the royal purge and contagiously, others actually did follow his example. Starkhaven proper engaged in a city-wide purge and clean-up. Sebastian promised nothing to anyone. He enforced nothing. He simply asked that they all come together for this first step, this one common goal. After which, he vowed to hear everyone out. Everyone. From the noblest of nobles down to the homeless poor and abandoned servants. Hear each one out with their grievances, honestly and openly. Everyone had a right to say what they needed to say to their fallen prince, and hopefully purge their spirits of their anger and hurt and hate. Maybe out of it all, some might have helpful suggestions. Or so he hoped. Help is what he needed. Help is what Starkhaven needed. He was one of Elthina’s seeds. He didn’t want to fail her… or those who depended on him. Never again. That was the meaning of responsibility. He had already failed Starkhaven’s people once. He had failed his friends when he abandoned them to that final battle in Kirkwall. He failed Anders, who possibly needed every friend he could get to help keep him grounded and focused. He admitted that this seed might be a late bloomer, but silently swore that this seed would not fail to grow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes from the Chant of Light:
> 
> First Quote: Benedictions 4:10  
> Second Quote: Transfigurations 1:3  
> Third Quote: Trials 1:14  
> Fouth Quote: Threnodies 8:21


	5. Mages at the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Those horrible triggery things people do to children are mentioned in this chapter. I do not describe explicit details. It is all mention in past tense as things that had happened. Just be ready.

**_~~ Starkhaven. Six Months after The Fall. Two months before Fenris and Anders flee Kirkwall._ **

Sebastian learned the hard way that he had no chance of gathering an army to chase down one possessed apostate, no matter that the same apostate started a Thedas-wide revolution. The past several months have been humbling, hard, and full of more learning than he had ever expected. He was never trained to rule, being the third son in the family. He had much to catch up on and it was a slow road. The hardest was the battle he had to fight regularly against those he once held fast to similar beliefs with. Templars.

In the end, he decreed that no Templar or Chantry may hold land or act within the territories of Starkhaven without the permission of the Crown. To do so is to be considered no better than bandits and raiders and will be punished with equal accordance. It did not go over well. The battles at his borders were harsh. He stripped each chantry in his district. Turn one after the other into a charitable organization, being places for the homeless under Chantry brothers or sisters who swore to be in service of the Maker for the people.

He spent the months rebuilding. Strengthening. Planting and harvesting. Training new guards and military. Week by week, Sebastian grew into the role of a true prince, the kind Starkhaven needed. Twice a week, he devoted himself to being a brother of the Chantry, doing charitable works himself as he had when he was an acolyte. No task was beneath him. He worked alongside even the lowest of his people to better understand their duties and their needs. Twice a week, he sat in his palace hall to hear the complaints, confessions, and pleas of the people. To be held accountable and allow them to speak what they wished without repercussion. He gave back to the people their voice, stolen by the Chantry and the Templars, silenced in fear of mages.

And on this day, mages had managed to sneak through his lands, through his city, and into his palace hall. They were waiting there as of early morning. Sebastian strode with long swift steps. “How did they get here?! Why did you let them pass? They are standing in MY hall!? How are they?!” he snarled to his closest advisers in the walkways and down the stairs till he stopped at the doors.

“Hear them out, my prince,” advised his seneschal.

He composed himself just barely. He threw open the doors and marched to the throne before even glancing at the people waiting. He turned about to snap out his former questions at the invading mages directly and … choked his words down. There were three adults, one a Tranquil. And three children. All filthy, starved, frightened, injured. He took in a breath and let it out slowly as he sat, sobered by the sight before him.

In the background stood the Tranquil, a tall rail thin man that was mostly bald. The lash marks on his body cut through his clothing, the blood long dried. The wounds poorly tended. He stood as placidly as any Tranquil. The other two adults were a young Templar he remembered from the Gallows, Keran. He amended. Keran was about 25 now, not so young and bearing a Templar rank. His almost colorless blond hair a matted mess as he held a wailing four-year-old in his arms. The red-headed child was in mage robes. Keran’s attention was too occupied trying to soothe the poor little boy and eventually just sat on the nearest bench cuddling him. The other adult was the shy scribe that had never left Elthina’s side, a sister of the Chantry, Rosie. Her robes so soiled they were barely recognizable. Behind her cowered an elven girl of about nine years, clutching the woman’s skirt and shivering in her terror of the men standing guard about the room. Rosie’s eyes held such pleading that Sebastian had to swallow hard at the emotions forming a lump in his throat. The last of the ragged group was a teen boy of about twelve years, a mage by his robes. His leg splinted, staff in hand, small chest under his other arm. This boy held his chin up and limped painfully forward with all the sureness of a noble emissary. Sebastian didn’t think he could have held such composure if he were in this boy’s place.

A Templar, a Chantry sister, and a collection of mage children… and one Tranquil. He felt ashamed of his early outbursts on the way here. He nodded to the boy to permit him to approach. He studied this boy closely with each step closer he took. The boy’s face was scarred as if a gauntlet had struck him bare faced and tore away skin. The boy was lucky to still have an eye where the scars streaked over it. The boy might have grown into a very handsome man if it were not for that. The expression was not that of a boy at all, but of a hardened warrior, one who has seen too much, suffered too much. A stolen childhood. It made Sebastian suddenly wonder at Anders’ words of what happened to mageborn children. The boy glanced back at Rosie for the briefest nod of encouragement before nodding to himself and facing Sebastian. He leaned heavily on the staff for balance. Did they walk all the way from Kirkwall in the chaos of the Free Marches?

The boy cleared his throat before speaking. “I am Prince Tomas Pentaghast, eighth in line to the Nevarran Throne.” Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up. And he thought being third was horrible. He could not fathom what it would mean to be eighth. And yet already this boy conducted himself better than Sebastian ever had. He wondered if Nevarra trained all their children to be prepared to take the throne. This certainly explained the boys determined look and air of nobility. The boy was actual royalty. He wanted to ask why the boy had been left in the Gallows of Kirkwall and not placed in one of the many Circles in Nevarra. Questions for later. “We have come seeking Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven to ask for asylum. We are the Seeds of the Open Circle, sent by Grand-Cleric Elthina with her final writings and requests.” Sebastian could not have been struck any dumber. Here the boy fumbled with his words as he glanced back again. “Well… we are… what’s left.” His last words quieter and full of sorrow.

Tomas took a deep breath and adjusted his weight. “To my left is Sir Keran… now Knight Commander of the Open Circle by… by default of the losses of the other two Templars that were with us. The other two fought and died protecting us on our journey here from Kirkwall. He is our last guardian.” He raised daring eyes to the prince, knuckles going white with the tight grip he held on his staff. “And the only one I will trust.” Mage fire flickered warningly around his fingers and abated. So much control for such a young lad. Hawke would have called the gesture a mabari’s warning growl.

“To my right is Sister Rosie, Grand-cleric Elthina’s scribe and emissary and is to be the Grand-cleric of the Open Circle.” He gave his head a shake to toss the dark hair from his eyes. It was once likely cropped short, but had grown over the months. He winced at the boy child and glanced back with soft sympathetic brown eyes. Sebastian wanted to know what this Open Circle was. His hand fingered a letter from Elthina that he carried in his sleeve often. It spoke of seeds cast on the winds. He wondered if this is what she meant.

“The Tranquil with us is… was… Enchanter Heris. We were charged as heretics and apostates. Templars found us. Keran did his best, but they took Heris and made him Tranquil. I stole him back, but got my leg broke doing so.” Tomas set the chest down on the lowest step to the throne and straightened so he could hold his staff with both hands for balance. “The children are Su-anne, apprentice mage-healer, and Niko there with Keran.” He raised a hand to rub his aggravated scars and willed himself not to.

Finally Sebastian found his voice and asked, “What happened to the others?”

“Keran’s sister left with one of the knights and eight of the children. They were pretending to be husband and wife with orphaned refugees. They were traveling from village to village. We hope they make it here soon.” Tomas licked his lips and refused a stool Sebastian had someone offer him. “Sir Michel was cut down in the Vimmark Mountains when we were attacked by Kirkwallers who wanted us to go back to the Gallows. Knight-Captain Jolyran… died of his wounds after an encounter with Templars last month. Enchantress Laurathi was taken by slavers while collecting wood. They beat and… they ruined her. She killed herself before we could manage to rescue her. Enchanter Archivan was shot through with arrows from those same slavers… at the command of a Templar. Rivan, Niko’s twin brother died of fever… yesterday.”

Sebastian’s mouth almost went dry at the recitation of the accounts of their journey marked by deaths. “And… you? Your face, Tomas?” Sebastian was unsure how to address this young lad before him. Prince Tomas? Prince Pentaghast? Mage Tomas? Mage-Prince? He watched that grip on the staff turn white-knuckled again. Su-anne started to whimper and Rosie turned away from Sebastian to comfort the waif.

The boy, no… young man. Sebastian concluded already that this was no longer a boy prince before him. The young man clenched his jaw a moment before replying plainly and coldly, “I got it in the Gallows before Keran came for us. A Templar beat me for taking issue with him and for forcing him to stop violating Su-anne. Rape is WRONG!” Tomas took several breaths to calm his rising rage. “I killed him and I am not sorry for it. I would do it again. Su-anne is only nine years old. Nothing sanctions pedophilia. Nothing.”

Sebastian thought he was going to be sick. Anders had once spoke of rape in his light snarky way. Sebastian thought it was just the mage being melodramatic. Templars were sworn in by the Chantry and supposed to be models of honor and courage. The great guardians and protectors. The knight in shining armor that every boy wants to be. Anders… was right. He could not believe it and yet here stood wounded and terrified proof. More so were the Templar raids into his territory that he was fighting so hard to rebuild and keep safe. By the Maker. Children. Punished by Templars. Children. Raped and beaten into disfigurement by grown men in plate armor. Mageborn or not, they were still just children. What happened to their moral code? At what point did Templars become so corrupt? Did the Divine and the Chantry sanction this? What power did Elthina have standing between corrupt Templars and angry abused mages? The injustice was no different than what happened with his own family, his parents and brothers, his brother’s children. He sought to avenge his family. Did mages have any less right to demand fair treatment? He dropped his eyes from the mage-prince. Did Anders have disfigurements maybe hidden under his robes?

The Starkhaven prince turned to the man on his left, “Seneschal, settle them in the royal guest rooms. Be sure they get baths, food, and an experienced healer. Send guards to every village and city in the territory. Make sure those eight children and their guardians get here safely.”

Before being led away, Tomas tapped the box with his staff, releasing the protective spells he had woven around it. “This is from Grand-Cleric Elthina. It holds more than it looks like it should.”

Rosie’s delicate voice spoke from behind, “Those were her last wishes and edicts. A collection of all she hoped to see come to fruition once she was gone. She assured me… She said you could be trusted to see it through.”

Sebastian nodded and watched them leave the great hall. He ordered that there will be no further visits from the public today, with an apology. This required his attention and he wanted to give people proper attention. He picked up the box and retreat with it to his private lounge.

There, with shaking hands, he opened it and removed its contents.


	6. Inside Elthina's Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~ Starkhaven. Two months before Fenris and Anders flee Kirkwall right up to the point that they are gone.

****

There, with shaking hands, he opened the small chest and removed its contents. A small collection of memoires. A few letters to the Divine Justinia V. Several letters to Sebastian. And a large pile of notes tied together and titled ‘Guiding Edicts for the First Open Circle.’ With it was a copy of Anders’ Mage Manifesto with Elthina’s personal notes and commentary scribbled throughout.

Sebastian sat stunned. Years ago, Anders had nagged people to read his manifesto. Sebastian had dismissed it as drivel and vitriol without reading it and told Anders to try to get the Grand Cleric to read it if he dared. He never thought Anders actually had listened to him. Now prince had so many questions, questions for Elthina and for Anders. One was now dead and the other… perhaps long out of his reach, especially after his temperamental threat of what? Mass murder of Kirkwall to find one possessed apostate. Oh how he regretted his words and actions now. Were his planned actions not any better and likely worse than what the mage had caused? His fury had since cooled in light of harsher reality and responsibilities.

Seeds. That was what Elthina had called him in the last letter he read from her. Seeds. Elthina had sewn many such seeds. Most did not make it. Sebastian was one such seed, struggling to grow. And now he was presented with a small seed group, sent by Elthina, to be this new Open Circle of magi. A circle that was supposed to arrive with four Templars, two enchanters, a cleric, and a couple dozen children. Less than half that were here. He wondered if Keran’s sister, Martha, would arrive safely or if she met with as much misfortune with the clutch of children she had with her. He called in one of his guards and bade him send word to the seneschal to assign someone to find the young woman and those children and bring them safely to the palace.  This was Elthina’s last wishes, that he be compassionate and grant them asylum. He could do that, he decided, and maybe more.

It was another full month before the small group of visitors were healed enough to be placed anywhere outside the palace. Martha was eventually found and escorted to the palace in that time. She guided five other children ranging in age from about eight to about eleven. There had been a Templar with her, but he had been set upon by a group of Templar Chantry fanatics. He had to admire Martha’s bravery to travel alone with mage children in unfamiliar and unfriendly lands.

After another month, and many discussions with the prince mage and Keran… and some awkward moments of tea with Martha, Sebastian managed to arrange not so much a tower, but one of the small now abandoned forts near the river for this Open Circle. He sent word to Ferelden to ask King Alistair how he was handling the ruling of his mage circles. Alistair responded by sending a friend as delegate, Wynn now First Enchanter in one of the Ferelden circles. He also sent a letter to Kirwall seeking Fenris and grudgingly Anders. Why Anders? Wynn educated Sebastian about magic and spirits with more patience that he thought he deserved. Perhaps… Anders had some right to his desired actions, though not perhaps the follow through. Even Wynn thought it could have been handled better, but that so few had actually died left even more questions that he needed the apostate to answer. And these notes, this manifesto, he needed the mage to help him make full sense of it.

Varric wrote him back. Kirkwall was overrun by Templars of varying factions. Kirwall was in further chaos and too dangerous a place for any mage. They were being captured and made tranquil after their families were tortured before them to see if they knew the locations of any other mages. And that was if they were not executed out right. Anders had been under Fenris’ watch and both had fled Kirkwall. Varric no longer knew where they were.

The news was disheartening.

So he sat back down with Elthina’s box and its contents. The letters to the Divine he transcribed and had a formal scribe sign witness to them along with the young cleric, Rose. Then he sent copies to the Divine for they contained the most horrific observations of abuse and misconduct among the very order of Templars and clerics. The Divine needed to know. He added Varric’s letter. It was all he could do for Kirkwall as he hoped the Divine was not behind this mess of splintered Templars. Lastly, he added his own reports of their conduct in his lands and the laws they have been breaking.

What he expected in response, if he could expect anything, was nothing like he was prepared for as Seeker arrived, he hair neatly shorn and dark, her accent Nevarran.


	7. Cassandra Pentaghast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cameo of our Seeker from Dawn of the Seekers Dragon Age film.

**_~~ Starkhaven. Two months before Winter Solstice._ **

Varric wrote him back. Kirkwall was overrun by Templars of varying factions. Kirwall was in further chaos and too dangerous a place for any mage. They were being captured and made tranquil after their families were tortured before them to see if they knew the locations of any other mages. And that was if they were not executed out right. Anders had been under Fenris’ watch and both had fled Kirkwall. Varric no longer knew where they were.

The news was disheartening.

So he sat back down with Elthina’s box and its contents. The letters to the Divine he transcribed and had a formal scribe sign witness to them along with the young cleric, Rose. Then he sent copies to the Divine for they contained the most horrific observations of abuse and misconduct among the very order of Templars and clerics. The Divine needed to know. He added Varric’s letter. It was all he could do for Kirkwall as he hoped the Divine was not behind this mess of splintered Templars. Lastly, he added his own reports of their conduct in his lands and the laws they have been breaking, Chantry laws he knew from his time as a Brother in the Chantry.

The first letters he received since arrived but a month or so after Fenris and Andres fled Kirkwall. They were from Fenris in his rough attempt at writing (that were far more improved than when he and Fenris parted ways before The Fall) and from Varric. All letters to Fenris and Anders would go through Varric as he was best able to keep track of where the warrior and mage were likely to be. They fled to Fereldan. Sebastian could not help be feel grateful and relieved. Fereldan was truly their best chance at survival, though he wanted them here in Starkhaven. To get them here would be very difficult.

The prince paced his office read Fenris’ letter. He suddenly needed to sit. According to Fenris, Anders progress with the spirit had ups and downs and that Brayden Hawke was off in Tevinter somewhere seeking a way to free the mage from the spirit. That wasn’t the news that drove him to sit. That news was of Elthina and the destruction of the Chantry. According to Fenris, who was reading Anders’ private journals, Elthina actually put Anders up to the task, creating martyrs practically of both her and Anders. Only eleven lives were lost that day. Eleven. Elthina knew, of course. No wonder she was moving Brothers and Sisters out. He remembered that day she sent them on missionary duties. Thinking back to Rosie and the Seeds of the Open Circle, he suddenly realized just how involved Elthina was. He wished deeply he had not been so close-minded about Anders. Elthina tried to tell him to help and all he did was… the opposite. He read on with relief that Fenris and Anders seemed well so far.

He penned his first letters out. To Varric was one of heartfelt gratitude for news of Fenris, a friend he missed greatly. To Fenris was his expressions of relief and an extension of an apology he wanted to make to Anders for his ignorance and cruelty. He let Fenris know that there was a place for both he AND Anders for when Hawke manages to save the mage and spirit from each other.

A couple months after those exchanges came another from Fenris. Snow was falling lightly outside, coating the courtyard in sparkling white. He was to have dinner with Martha soon, his first nervous step to courtship. He wanted to read this letter and respond to it first. Fenris was doing well. Better than well. Anders had found a way to break the magic that caused Fenris so much pain and would hopefully free Fenris soon. Fenris complained a great deal about being cold. Sebastian laughed. He penned his own updates to Fenris, about the Open Circle and about his interest in Keran’s sister. He lamented a little about his own duties and how much he missed his friend. A knock on the door called him to dinner. He signed the letter and promised in a PS that he would write again soon.

The next day brought with it a response from Orlais at last. What he expected in response, if he could expect anything, was nothing he was prepared for. A Seeker arrived, her hair neatly shorn and dark, her accent Nevarran. Cassandra Pentaghast stood like a pillar of light and fire and conviction. Sebastian knew of the Seekers, the Seekers of Truth. These Seekers were a small elite Templar order whose duty it was to investigate internal and external threats to the Chantry and to root out corruption within the Templar and Chantry orders. The prince felt there might not be enough of these people to settle the chaos and corruption running rampant.

He took a risk and summoned a teen to his court before meeting with Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. Tomas Pentaghast, whom Sebastian had taken to calling Mage-Prince Tomas Pentaghast, limped heavily into the meeting room. His staff offered him support. Over the months, his face had healed properly, though badly scarred. His leg too had healed, though he would never walk properly again. It never once interfered with his steady royal air. He conducted himself as always with poise, composure, and the utmost of honor and respect. Sebastian found himself trying to emulate this thirteen-year-old.

Cassandra and Tomas greeted each other with surprise, then respect. They were cousins and almost on opposite sides of the mage-Templar lines. He asked her to smite him so that he may understand what it feels like to be smited by a Seeker. With no first enchanter to teach him, he had been cautiously muddling through self-training. His only guide being a mentor who was made tranquil on his road to Starkhaven months ago. It put Cassandra at ease to have the youth without magic. Sebastian thought perhaps that was a calculated ploy on Tomas’ part.

After exchanging platitudes and mulled wine, they got down to business. Cassandra had come with a large force of 20 Seekers. Sebastian did not consider 20 people a large force, but Cassandra insisted they were far more sufficient to the task and work ten Templars per seeker. She was going to leave ten of them to patrol the surrounding Free Marches and deal with the renegades of their order that Sebastian had report on. In exchange, she wanted news. “Where are they? The Champion of Kirkwall, Brayden Hawke, and the abomination, Anders.”

“And why do you think I would have anything to do with either of them? I left Kirkwall the day the Chantry was blown sky high!” Sebastian replied with the same ferocity Cassandra had displayed.

Tomas interjected in a controlled tone, “Not all possessed mages are abominations; that is a state they become when they have lost control of a demon they have given into. As I understand it, Anders is a possessed mage, like Wynn, and a Grey Warden which takes him outside the jurisdiction of the Chantry.”

Cassandra ground her teeth but accepted the correction. “You knew them; you must have some idea where they might be.”

Sebastian decided to play this extra carefully. “I had known them. The last I knew was that they were in Kirkwall still, but that was months ago. And considering the suffocatingly corrupt state of things there, I doubt they would have stayed. Hawke maybe, but Anders… he would surely flee. I have relatively good relations and communication the lead Templar of the Gallows, Cullen. I recommend you speak with him. Or speak with the drawf Varric. He too was a friend of them and is better informed than I. My news is, as I said, months old.”

The Seeker clearly appeared displeased by this, but what was there to do about it? “Very well. I expect you will keep the Divine Justinia V informed of any changes?”

“Of course Seeker Pentaghast. I was once a Brother of the Chantry. While I have been absolved of my vows so that I may take the throne, my faith is ever strong and I am ever devoted to Andraste and the Chant.” Sebastian glanced to the young mage who sat quietly watching the affair across the table.

“I have no choice then but to go to Kirkwall.”

Sebastian nodded his agreement, but added, “Please be very careful there and on your route. Will you stay the night? I can arrange accommodations.”

Tomas seized his opportunity, “Cousin, why not come with your men and stay at the Open Circle. We have a well-secured fort and would welcome your advice. Sister Rosie is Grand-Cleric there and Knight Keran has been managing well enough, but is young. We lost Knight-Captain Jolyran when a renegade Templar group decided to counter Grand-Cleric Elthina’s orders and attacked us en force.”

Sebastian had not expected Tomas to make such an invitation and would not have counselled such a thing himself, but the young man was smooth and well-composed… and very charmingly persuasive. He did not look like a threat at all, crippled as he was. Sebastian knew better. This young teen would defend those in need with his very life if need be, and had. Cassandra accepted, partly because this was her cousin and she wanted to be sure he was safe and doing well and partly to see this “open circle” that she has heard rumor of.

When the meeting had ended, Tomas gave a wink and small encouraging smile to Sebastian before leaving. This invitation would buy Sebastian time, a day, maybe even two if he were lucky. He strode swiftly to his room and wrote a letter to Varric and to Cullen warning them of the pending arrival of the Seekers and this fiery spirited Cassandra. Then he walked down to the little Chantry in the palace and prayed for the safety of his friends, even the ones who would not believe he were a friend.

 

 


End file.
